Denied!  DeanCas
by UAWinsest
Summary: Dean tries to have a private moment with himself, but keeps getting interrupted by people accidentally walking in on him  Sam, Bobby, Ellen  Pent Up!Dean tries again when Castiel interrupts him One Shot


**Disclaimer: I don't earn any money from this, and Supernatural and their characters remain the property of Erik Kripke**

**Title**: Denied!

**Pairing**: Dean/Cas

**Warnings**: masturbation, orgasm desperation, humping

**Spoilers**: none

**Summary**: So, Dean tries to have a private moment with himself, but keeps getting interrupted by people accidentally walking in on him (Sam, Bobby, Ellen) and the embarrassment blocks his ability to finish up. Pent Up!Dean tries again when Castiel interrupts him this time, Dean loses it and Pounces sex starved!Dean.

Dean isn't sure he didn't piss off something powerful by the fourth time he has to start and then stop. There's no other explanation for it; his dick's hard enough to hammer nails with, and his balls are tightening and he's so fucking close...

And then Ellen calmly walks in like they're in her house, like she didn't know he was in the shower, and her "Don't mind me, honey," doesn't actually translate into a language his cock can understand.

By the time she prances out, whistling smugly – because she knows, she fucking knows – Dean's almost in tears. He switches the shower to cold and resolves that one of these days he's going to get a sign for hanging on the door knob and it will say 'Do not disturb – I'm jerking off' or some such statement.

Ellen he can maybe let off with it – or maybe not because she was married. But Sam, and Bobby have got no such excuses. Every guy in existence cleans his pipes in the shower. It's quick, you get clean afterwards, it's practical. He isn't going to consider what Bobby does, but if his little brother isn't performing some kind of regular personal maintenance, Dean's going to feel like a total failure, all his hard taught lessons gone unlearned.

In the meantime his dick wants to poke a hole in his jeans ever time he sees something that interests him, every time he walks, breathes, thinks. Right now, Uriel could walk by in a thong and Dean would be humping his leg. And that is a very scary visual image, but still doesn't manage to short circuit Dean's dick. Dean's dick is very persistent, and he knows crediting it with sentience is probably a sign that he's losing it.

At this rate he will lose it – it'll drop off from neediness and neglect.

Finally, after saving a girl from an honest to goodness dragon – Dean still can't believe it himself – he gets a chance. The girl – medium height, red hair, nice rack – has decided Sam is her hero, and woo-hoo Sammy's going to get laid which means Dean can take his time (not that he will, not when he's this desperate) and jerk off until he's made up for all the times he barely got started let alone finished.

Or until he loses all feeling in his hand and risks repetitive strain injury, but he can shoot with his left hand too. No pun intended.

And it's glorious. He puts a sock on the door handle anyway, because he's enough of a bitch to smirk at the knowledge that Sam might not be able to seal the deal, and then flops naked onto the bed. He's already lubed up his fingers and he strokes himself hard and fast, because he just needs to come. Once he's got the pent up stuff out of the way, he can turn on some porn, take his time with it.

He screws his eyes shut; he's so close now, almost, almost...

"Dean?"

"Argh!" He almost tears his dick off when Castiel just appears standing over him, looking down at him like yes, he does think whoever hands out the angel assignments was surely in a bitch of a mood when they got to him. "Fuck!"

Castiel starts to step back, but it's too late. Dean's beyond the point where a hand job is going to cure what ails him and since Castiel's the one to blame (the most recent one to blame, anyway) Dean is determined to make him atone.

He reaches up, grabs hold of Castiel's coat, and tugs the angel down. Castiel wasn't expecting it, clearly, and tumbles right down onto Dean's legs. It takes a bit of twisty turny, upsy downsy, but he has Castiel beneath him, and not naked, but at this point clothes are just pieces of fabric and even if the angel was wearing a suit of armour, Dean would still be doing this.

He doesn't want to be a bitch about it though, so he kisses Castiel to shut him up (he can see the question forming) and to make sure he doesn't think about moving. And then he lines himself up with Castiel's hip and thrusts hard again and again and again.

It's easier than he thought, desperation not withstanding. Castiel is hot and firm and when Dean opens his eyes long enough to see if Cas is going to smite him over this, he finds the angel just staring back at him, openly curious. Not afraid, not disgusted, just...interested.

And that...that gives impetus to Dean's cock that it did not need, and he's coming all over Castiel's coat.

Dean slumps down over him, sure Castiel's strong enough not to get squished by him. He couldn't help it even if he wasn't – his bones have officially turned to jello, his muscles are bits of string, and he's pretty sure he'll never be able to walk again.

It could be worse. It could have been Sam in which case Castiel would have either been flattened on the bed or shoved right down through the mattress. And thinking of Sam lying on Cas after getting off on him...it makes Dean's mouth turn down at the corners, nudging him out of his happy blissful relieved state.

"Dean," Castiel says, and raises a hand to pat him awkwardly. "Can we get up now?"

Dean shuts his eyes again, wants to pretend that when they do get up, he'll be clothed and Castiel won't have jizz on the front of his coat. But his imagination's not that good. He gives Castiel an apologetic look and crawls off of him. He does grab the cover once Cas stands, and wraps it around his middle.

No sense in corrupting the angel too much in one day, best to space these things out.

"So," he offers, and then decides really...there isn't much to say.

He waits for Castiel to glare at him, to lecture him, to kick him back downstairs or just take off in a huff.

He isn't expecting Castiel to look down at his coat, at the sticky drying stain over his hip. He isn't expecting Castiel to take the coat off and toss it at Dean's chest. Dean grabs it on reflex, which means dropping the quilt, but he doesn't really notice that.

Not when Castiel is smirking at him. "I believe there's a launderette in this motel," he says. "I'll be awaiting your return." And he sits down on the bed, and just looks at him. Expectantly. Like he knows that Dean is going to do just what he says, and Dean knows it too, but maybe just hasn't admitted it to himself.

And Dean's in his denims and nothing else, and out the door before he thinks to object to being ordered to do the angel's laundry. He doesn't mind too much though, because he did mess up the coat in the first place.

Besides, Castiel definitely makes it up to him when he gets back.


End file.
